


forget me not

by StrawberryLane



Series: Love Charade [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Fake Marriage, Forced Marriage, Gossip, Marriage Law Challenge, Marriage of Convenience, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, POV Outsider, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible, wedding ceremony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 16:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17471420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryLane/pseuds/StrawberryLane
Summary: In the last weeks alone, Dolphus has officiated three weddings where either the groom or the bride were openly crying, surrounded by stone-faced relatives, one where an elderly aunt threw a screaming fit right in his face because the groom didn't live up to her expectations for her niece and one where everybody was so drunk on elf wine he's sure the couple will not even remember actually being married. But the fact remains that none of those occasions were quite as gloomy as this.This couple, who have summoned Dolphus on what he thought would be his first day off  work in about three months, doesn't even try to pretend to be happy.





	forget me not

Sometimes, Dolphus Dodge regrets his chosen profession. It's not because work is hard to come by, especially not in times like these, but because it's so bloody obvious people are doing it for the entirely wrong reasons.

Like, trying to avoid a sentence in Azkaban or being forced to spend their lives with somebody they hate. Because that's how this new, horrendous law works. The Ministry must be out of their minds, Dolphus thinks – and he is generally supportive of the government and their ways. But passing a bill that makes all eligible pureblooded bachelors and bachelorettes above the age of seventeen bound by law to marry a half-blood, muggle-born or even muggle within the next six months to avoid being sentenced to Azkaban prison is pure stupidity on the Ministry's part. The official statement is that it needs to be done to save the wizarding world's oldest, purest bloodlines from ceasing to exist or becoming too inbred, because the purist fools who believe in the purity of their blood will only marry each other. And by this point, they're all related to one another in some way or other. Too closely related to marry, some would say.Though that never stopped the Egyptian Pharaohs, so Dolphus fails to see how the most fanatic of the old families will see the logic in the Ministry's argument. Keeping the marriage in the family has been done for centuries and will likely continue to be done so, no matter how the world evolves.

Personally, Dolphus thinks it's a poorly thought out attempt at mixing blood, one that's going to make a lot of people very unhappy in the long run, but he's not complaining. He's getting a lot of work out of it. His business is booming. In times like these, being a marriage officiant has its perks.

Having said so, it's not all sunshine and rainbows. In the last weeks alone, Dolphus has officiated three weddings where either the groom or the bride were openly crying, surrounded by stone-faced relatives, one where an elderly aunt threw a screaming fit right in his face because the groom didn't live up to her expectations for her niece and one where everybody was so drunk on elf wine he's sure the couple will not even remember actually being married. But the fact remains that none of those occasions were quite as gloomy as this.

Most of the couples at least attempt to make Dolphus believe they're marrying out of love and not because the Ministry's being led by a bunch of idiotic baboons. They attempt to put on a show, wear fancy dress robes and throw a party, plying him with wedding cake and fire whiskey. There are older and younger relatives, dropping sentences like "I'm so glad they've finally decided to take the plunge," when Dolphus is within earshot, as if that will distract him from the fact that the groom has looked himself in the loo and is refusing to come back out despite knowing what fate he faces should he not come out and marry the stranger or close friend awaiting him by the altar. Dolphus is still not sure if the attempt at charades is for his benefit or for the families themselves. Everybody knows the real reason for the marriages, even the house elves. Nobody's fooling anyone, but they're all still trying. The Prophet is full of "happy" announcements every day, the wedding shops overworked, the officiants too. And yet, it's very apparent that nobody's happy at all.

This couple. who have summoned Dolphus on what he thought would be his first day off work in about three months, doesn't even try to pretend. The place, a living room, is dark and gloomy and the walls seems to vibrate with dark magic. The place gives him the collywobbles. The groom does as well, because Dolphus hasn't even fully stepped out of the fireplace when he realizes he's face to face with Sirius Black.

To his credit, Black does look a lot better, more healthy, than he did the last time Dolphus saw him. Granted, that was on a photograph in the Prophet, announcing that Black had once again avoided the clutches of the aurors trying to catch him. And that he'd broken his mad cousin and his mates out of Azkaban to join the Dark Lord, but that's just a minor detail. In that photograph, recycled from his escape, Black had still been sporting his prison robes, his hair hanging matted and filthy down to his elbows. He'd looked mad as a hatter, screaming at unseen people outside of the frames of his photograph.

The Black heir Dolphus comes face to face with in the drab and gloomy living room of what seems to be the man's house, is looking much more like an actual human being instead d of a vampire left in his casket for too long. For one, he's cut off most of his hair, leaving it to reach his shoulders instead of his waist. His face is no longer gaunt and hollow, though his eyes look as mad as ever. He seems to have put on weight too, and he's changed his dirty, rotten prison robes for crimson red robes more worthy the heir of one of the darkest, most pureblooded families there is. In a way, Dolphus thinks, Black does look almost regal.

His bride, not so much. In truth, Dolphus doesn't even notice her at first, because he's too busy staring at her soon-to-be-husband and sneaking glances at the man's left inner forearm, trying to get a peek at the Dark Mark that supposedly brands it. Sadly for Dolphus, the man's robes makes sure his arm is completely covered at all times and Dolphus has to avert his gaze before Black catches on.

So instead, Dolphus takes to studying Black's bride for a moment. She's young, seventeen at most. Her hair is her most defining feature, bushy as it frames her face and her red-rimmed eyes. She's been crying until recently, Dolphus realises with a jolt of shame, even though he personally has nothing to do with the Ministry's godforsaken law. He wonders what, exactly lead to the girl being tangled up with Black. Nothing good, probably. He briefly considers checking for an imperius curse, or a confundus charm, but the girl seems clear-headed enough, her mouth set in a firm, thin line as she steps forward to join Black in front of him.

Dolphus isn't dumb enough to think she's marrying Black out of her own, free will, but he can't do anything to help her. Despite somehow getting the Minister himself to pardon him of his crimes, Black is still a man most sensible people avoid. Most of the public, Dolphus among them, still believe the man to be guilty of being a Death Eater. Why else would he have been sentenced to life in Azkaban in the first place? The evidence must have been overwhelming, Trissy always tells Dolphus whenever she spots some new headline about the man in the Prophet over breakfast. Nobody who's truly innocent acts the way Black has done, she reasons, and Dolphus is inclined to agree with his wife.

Black has more reasons than most to want to avoid Azkaban, Dolphus thinks. And he'll surely go great lengths to avoid it.

Turning slightly, Black catches his bride's hand, intertwining their fingers.

"Get on with it," he says, harshly, as the girl looks like she'll begin crying any second. Swallowing, Dolphus brings out his wand, taking a deep breath. There's only the couple and him, no relatives to be found anywhere. No witnesses.

"There... uh. The ceremony won't be binding without a witness." Dolphus lowers his wand for a moment, wishing his hands didn't feel so clammy.

Black looks annoyed at that, "Why didn't you say so," he mutters, as if that isn't public knowledge. The girl frowns and opens her mouth, but no sounds come out. Dolphus takes a swift step to the side as Black marches up to the fire place, reaching into a jar on the mantel, throwing powder into the fire. Kneeling down, he puts the upper half of his body in the green flames and re-emerges only moments later, apparently satisfied.

With a pop that makes Dolphus jump out of his skin, a shabbily dressed man in tattered robes with scars across his face suddenly appears. "Cheers, Moony," Black says, grinning at the newcomer.

"Professor," says the girl, nodding at the man. She's got a small smile playing on her lips, like she's genuinely happy to see him.

"Hermione," Moony replies, reaching out to give her a quick hug. "It's good to see you-"

"Let's get this on with," interrupts Black,, once again intertwining his fingers with the girl's, looking at Dolphus with slightly raised eyebrows. "We haven't all day. She's needs to get back to school."

So at least the girl isn't being kept a prisoner, Dolphus thinks, a little relieved. He'd feared that Black had simply snatched some poor, unsuspecting woman off of the streets in his haste to find a spouse. Behind him, Moony - whatever kind of name that is - is frowning. "Wait," he says, taking out his wand, pointing it in front of him. Black turns his annoyed gaze at the other man, who seems unbothered by it.

"A bride needs flowers," Moony insists, drawing a small bouquet of forget-me-nots out of the air. Hermione takes them in her free hand, clutching them close to her chest. The flowers match the print of tiny forget-me-nots on her light blue dress. A dress entirely inappropriate for a wedding, Dolphus thinks, looking more like one of those sundresses so popular with muggles than proper witch attire. Of course, he doesn't voice this opinion out loud, because he values his life and it's not like anybody really cares. Anybody with functioning brain cells can tell this marriage will be a sham. So instead, Dolphus takes his wand, drawing shapes in the air in front of the couple. Soon, they're surrounded by red and golden lines, looping around their intertwined hands and glowing brighter and brighter for each loop.

"Do you," Dolphus asks, trying not to look at Black's face, "Sirius Orion Black,, take Hermione-" Dolphus stops abruptly, suddenly hesitant.

"-Jean Granger," the girl supplies, swallowing loudly.

"Hermione Jean Granger to be your wife, to love, worship and treasure her until death do you part?"

Black's eyes are sparkling and his mouth forms into a grimace. "I do," he says, not even looking at the girl.

"And do you, Hermione Jean Granger, take Sirius Orion Black to be your husband, to love, treasure and obey until death do you part?"

A sharp breath, a slight hesitation. "I do."

The forget-me-nots are crumpled now, already withering. The lines looping around the couple glow impossibly bright before bursting, leaving behind a smoky smell, like muggle fireworks.

If this was a normal wedding, this would be the part where the relatives all cheer and the couple look incredibly happy. As it is, there are unshed tears in Hermione's eyes. threatening to spill over once again and Black looks as hollow as Dolphus has ever seen him before. Busying himself with the business part of the ceremony, Dolphus produces the papers everybody needs to sign to make sure the ceremony is legal as well as magically binding.

'Remus John Lupin' signs Moony in swooping letters, next to Dolphus' own name. Black signs his own name in chicken scratch next to Hermione's tidy, tiny letters. If Dolphus hadn't looked at her, he'd have thought the bride was as composed as Black seems to be.

The ceremony is officially over and his services are no longer needed, but Dolphus lingers. He's sure the whole house knows he's there, but he hides in the shadows for a moment anyway. He pretends to check that everything is in order, spying through the half closed door to the living room. Moony - or Lupin, or whatever his name is - offered to show him the door, a clear hint that Dolphus services are no longer acquired. Dolphus had turned him down, telling him as haughtily as he dared that he was perfectly capable of finding the door on his own. Moony had only smiled politely at him.

"Here," he hears Black tell his new bride through the door. "Take this."

Leaning forward, Dolphus strains his eyes to see a huge black diamond ring now adorning Hermione's ring finger.

"It's enchanted. Old family magic, my magic, woven into the very core of the diamond. Nobody else can touch you without your consent. And nobody but you or me can take the ring off of your finger without suffering horrendous pain."

Black explains all this in a very dull voice, like he's reading from a text book. Perhaps he is, Dolphus can't really see from where he's standing.

"Thank you," says Hermione. "But it's not me I'm worried about."

At this, Moony chuckles. "She's right, you know," he says. "Hermione's much more protected than you, Padfoot. Even with the threat of Azkaban out of the way."

Black grimaces. "I know. But a little extra protection never hurts anyone. And don't you worry about me, I'm fine. This place is unplottable. Nobody will get to me even if they have their noses pressed against the windows, staring straight at me. And I won't be inviting anybody in."

"If you say so." Dolphus can hear the uncertainty in Hermione's voice, though she tries to mask it. "I have to get going," she says, "Transfiguration starts soon." She sounds relieved.

From his place in the shadows, Dolphus can see Black nodding. "Yes," he says taking the flowers Hermione thrusts at him as she flings a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, the flames turning green. That sad little bouquet of forget-me-nots crumple even more in Black's hands.

Dolphus has turned away from the door when he hears Black speak quietly over the roar of the fire.

"Hermione? Thank you. Again."

Dolphus doesn't know what Black means by that and he'd like to stay and find out more, but the house feels like it's closing in on him and he should probably leave before Black realizes he's still here. He likes being alive, after all.

So he descends down the stairs, past a horrendous shrieking portrait and an ugly house elf egging said portrait on. He very nearly trips over a very ugly umbrella stand by the door, which is seemingly made out of a troll leg. So he stumbles out onto the street, the door closing silently behind him, the feeling of finality being almost tangible in the air around him. 

There's no going back now. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it!


End file.
